Recently we discussed the odd things that make noises. Noises that prompt investigation. I think it had to do with flying fish, and a tale of one cruising friend boat who had one land in their cockpit and then launch itself down the companionway into their saloon. Can’t remember if it might have also smacked someone in the head as well. I do believe that happened to our dear friends Andrew and Julia on SV Hullabaloo, a stunningly gorgeous Oyster 56 with a saloon to die for. Isabel will tell you it’s the only monohull that would tempt me to the dark side. Good thing Andrew doesn’t sound like Darth Vader when he talks.
So last night I heard one of those banging sounds followed by some flapping, then silence. Aha! A flying fish had obviously landed in our cockpit then managed to find its way back into the sea! Problem was I kept smelling the thing even after the commotion was over, so like a good doobie who hates stinky boats I flipped on the cockpit lights and had a look about. Nope, no fish anywhere, but maybe the darn thing slimed the deck enough to leave behind some foul odor. Back to the settee to kick back and keep an eye on things, and the smell just won’t go away, so this time on with the saloon lights, and there inside the doorway just next to the booze locker is a bloody flying fish, smelling to high heaven. Trying to grab it bare handed was futile, the little slippery slimey bugger refused to be manhandled, so in frustration I kicked it and managed to launch it over the door threshold, then another kick out in the cockpit launched it back into the sea. That didn’t fix the stink, so out came the simple green and a paper towel and all indoor fishy surfaces got sanitized. Task complete, no more fish, no more stink, just a fairly boring bar story.
Back around January 19th I busted out some bizarre tale about a baby octopus clogging up a head intake. Blocked heads are the worst job on the boat, and resolving these issues is one of my jobs. We had a weird holding tank outlet valve blockage back in December 2019 that I managed to resolve without any mess, just the disgusting job of bucketing out the entire contents of the 35 gallon tank, about 3 gallons at a time using our Homer bucket. Thank you Home Depot! After that mishap I read up on causes of blocked heads and sludge or calcium build up in holding tanks and hoses – generally a phenomenon of mixing salt water with urine. Problem is, we flush our master head with fresh water, so I never really solved the mystery of why the problem occurred. Maybe just chock it up to a 11 year boat. . .
Anyway, a few weeks ago while anchored in that freakin’ Taiohae Bay with all it’s Southern swell and silly wind and currents that has us beam-to and feeling all twitchy, the same problem occurred again. It started with a rather unpleasant smell, which drove an inspection of the holding tank vents, revealing “effluent” running down the side of the hull from the vents. Oh no, not again. This time I’m in the middle of trying to recover from pneumonia, not feeling my best. The attempts to solve the problem always begin with trying to stick a flexible pipe up the thru-hull and ball valve assembly from in the water, but it takes a miracle to make the 90 degree turn from the thru-hull inside to the pipe that leads to the second ball valve at the tank outlet. After a few futile attempts, it was apparent that the same solution employed in 2019 was going to have to be repeated. No biggy, I got this, disgusting job but last time I didn’t spill a drop.
Not so this time, as when the blockage finally gave way I couldn’t get the upper ball valve closed fast enough, and the ensuing deluge left me looking like that kid in Slumdog Millionaire. Stumbling out of the boat and leaping into the sea was followed by a long hot outdoor shower with plenty of soap. Fortunately, I didn’t touch or brush against anything on the way out of the boat.
I think this one might make a better bar story.
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